Letting Go of the Birth I Planned

As my due date gets closer, I've been thinking a lot about what delivery will look like this time around.

When I was pregnant with Talullah, I was due on October 8th. I went to see my doctor on October 9th, and shortly after 10 a.m. I started having contractions. I labored at home for most of the day until I finally couldn't take it anymore.

By the time I got to the hospital, I was already 4 cm dilated. I told the nurses I didn't want any pain medication and focused on getting through each contraction one at a time.

By 5 a.m., my daughter was here.

Looking back, it was a relatively quick labor.

What I remember most, though, isn't the contractions.

I remember being exhausted. I remember shaking uncontrollably. I remember finally meeting my daughter and being so physically weak that I couldn't hold her.

After laboring all day, giving birth, losing blood, and already struggling with low iron, my body had absolutely nothing left to give. One of my strongest memories from that day is taking a sip of orange juice and feeling like it brought me back to life.

For a long time, that birth story felt like proof that I could do it again.

I have always been passionate about delivering as naturally as possible. It's something I felt strongly about before I ever became a mother. So when the conversation of a scheduled C-section entered the picture, I struggled with it.

I've talked with multiple doctors. I've asked questions. I've advocated for myself. I've pushed for understanding every option available to me because I wanted to make sure this decision wasn't being made out of convenience or fear.

But at the end of the day, this isn't about my comfort. It isn't about what I want my birth story to look like.

It's about getting my daughter here as safely as possible.

What many people don't know is that while Talullah's birth was beautiful, it was also scary.

She weighed 9 pounds 12 ounces, and I had an incredibly difficult time pushing her out. Toward the end of delivery, her heart rate began to drop. Looking back, every person who was in that room has told me how frightening those moments were.

The truth is, I don't remember feeling afraid. I was focused. Exhausted. Determined.

But this time, I am afraid.

Not because I doubt myself. Not because I doubt my doctors. But because I now understand just how quickly things can change.

As much as I love the idea of an unmedicated vaginal birth, I am not willing to risk my child's safety for the sake of my preferred birth experience.

That realization took me a long time to accept.

I had to grieve the expectations I had for myself. I had to let go of what I thought strength looked like. I had to remind myself that motherhood has never been about doing things the hard way just to prove that I can.

Sometimes motherhood looks like surrender.

Sometimes it looks like changing the plan.

Sometimes it looks like choosing what is safest, even when it isn't what you would have chosen for yourself.

Am I nervous about surgery? Absolutely.

Am I nervous about recovery? Without a doubt.

I've had my older sister reassure me more times than I can count, and for her wisdom I am incredibly grateful. But even with all of that reassurance, the unknown still feels scary.

Another realization that recently hit me is that I've been telling myself for months that I have until October.

My due date is October 2nd, but because of the risks associated with another large baby and my previous delivery, my doctor doesn't want to risk me going into labor on my own. My scheduled C-section will likely happen around 37 weeks.

Which means I'll probably meet my daughter in September.

Somehow, typing that makes everything feel a lot more real.

Less time to prepare. Less time before our family grows. Less time with Talullah as my only baby.

It's exciting, emotional, and honestly a little overwhelming all at once.

But fear and peace can exist at the same time.

So this September, I'll walk into the hospital carrying a little fear, a lot of faith, and the confidence that I've done everything I can to make the best decision for my daughter.

At the end of it all, I'll get to meet another one of my giant babies.

Apparently I don't make tiny humans, and that's okay too. 😂

No matter how she gets here, she'll be worth every bit of it.